


Wrecking Ball

by KPenDragon



Series: KP's Primeverse [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: All original cast, Gen, In universe setting only, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2097393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KPenDragon/pseuds/KPenDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The origin story for one of my main TFOCs. All original characters; only the universe is related to canon really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

There was fire. Fire as far as an optic could see. Whatever the structure had been at one point couldn’t be distinguished from the raging blaze that consumed it now. The roar of the flames droned out any orders the C.O. was dishing out, but it didn’t matter, they could most likely figure it out on their own.

They were too late.

Coolant sprays were brought in, trying to contain the fires before they could spread, as well as speed up their burn out. They couldn’t wait the hours it would take for them to burn down on their own after all. They were a recon team; their job here was to scout the place and report back to their superior about option in going in to get back their people that were being held inside. Seeing as the place was burning though, not instead it was their job to do a body count to see if any of their people had survived or not.

Finally the flames were contained enough where a smaller team could go in to check things out. Metal lay twisted and scotched far beyond recognition in most places that were visible. As they moved in deeper, bodies started to become apparent, blackened far beyond recognition. The team leader directed a few of them to start hauling out the bodies; identification would be easier out in the clear air.

Someone moved a large piece of sheet metal, and a yell echoed off the charred skeletal walls. Two others came running to the sound, weapons at the ready, but they powered those down once they saw what had caused the alarm. 

Behind the large sheet of metal, there was a dark green mech, curled up as small as he could get to hide behind the shielding piece. He seemed to have avoided the fires, but there was no way he could have avoided the smoke that had accompanied it. Add to that the multiple and very visible marks of torture on nearly any visible piece of his frame, there was just no telling if he was even still online.

The one that had found him tried to reach out to touch him, to check. Before digits could grace the scarred paneling though, the green mech reacted. He twisted fast, grabbing the offending wrist and wrenching it away from himself, rising to standing as well as drawing his perceived attack close to himself, revealing in the same movement that his other hand bore a sharpened stake of iron that was mere centimeters from severing the other’s vital lines. The others reacted, going on the defensive immediately; the one pinned just froze. This was defensive training, and the green mech’s optics, though clearly damaged, were wild.

Then just as fast as he’d sprung up, he was collapsing against. The shank fell from a limp grasp, and he just collapsed into his assumed attack. Luckily the other bot was fast enough to catch him before he completely crumpled into a scrap heap on the floor. The other two stood down again, while the first one called back for one of them to call in that they’d found a survivor…and that they’d need a medic…

_Hey, yeah, that’s me there. No, not the guy giving the orders, the guy who’s not looking so hot. And I’m pretty sure by the look on your face, you’re wondering just what the frag is going on here hu? Well let me tell you, that is a pretty long story. But if you got the time, I do like telling stories._


	2. Part 1

_It all started off same way as most things do I guess. You meet someone at work, you hit it off, start to think about setting up a future, and then it all gets thrown out the hatch. That’s when the war came up. So alright, you both go off, not exactly mentioning there’s a thing going on because that’s a big thing that’s not supposed to happen. So you kick butt, it’s just doing another job after all; different day, different tools, but it was still work. And we were good at it. We were good together._

“So, you wanna do the honors?”

“Naw, s’all you.”

“Well if you insist.”

From a safe distance far away, up on a bluff, two lone figures stood. One a burnt orange, the other ranging color between forest and army green. No sooner had they exchanged their words, than an explosion happened, exposing an underground hole that they had just been surveying. Flaming pieces of debris started falling now as the dust cloud from the explosives cleared. The two bots, they just chuckled as they watched their handiwork unfold.

“That sure was purdy.”

“Explosions always make things better.”

“Damn straight,” the orange mech stretched, his arm just automatically hanging over the other’s shoulders. “So what’s next then?”

The green mech just slipped the detonator he’d just used back into its slot on his belt-like holder, and then shrugged lightly, but not enough to dislodge the arm on him. “Head back to base I guess. This was all we were sent out to do you know.”

“Uhg, already? Don’chya think we could hold that off for a few hourns?”

“Picker, with all the blasting powder you put in that rig, I’m sure they heard that all the way in Kalos.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe that was a bit of overkill.”

“You think?” he chuckled too, moving away from him now. “C’mon, quicker we get back, the quicker we get back out.”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Well c’mon then,” he was already heading down the hill, only half glancing back to his partner to see if he was following.

“Well wait up there Kit,” he tried to catch up quickly, but his bigger frame made him a bit slower than the green bot.

Liftkit stayed about a yard ahead of Picker the whole way down. Once at the foot of the hill, he purposely picked up speed then, much to his partner’s chagrin. He chuckled, jogging now; not that that would get them back to base any quicker really, the location was still far away.

“Kit!”

“Gotta work for it if you want it!”

He looked back and squealed involuntarily once he realized that the other was right on him. Picker grabbed Liftkit around the waist, nearly causing the smaller bot to topple forward if he wasn’t holding onto him so tightly. The orange mech spun them both around slightly, before he finally let the green down. Once he was free of the grasp, Liftkit turned and halfheartedly smacked his chest plate.

“I told you I don’t like that.”

“I know,” he grinned, grabbing and pulling him close again, facing him this time of course, “But you’re just so darn attractive when you’re flustered like that.”

“Then I must be gorgeous whenever you screw up then hu.”

“Why you think I don’t mind it so much when you’re screaming at me,” he grinned again.

Liftkit just rolled his optics, trying to push away from him. “Uhhu, c’mon, we still gotta be getting back.”

They started walking again, this time more in sync and side by side, though judging by his gait, Picker wasn’t all that happy with it.

“Is that really all you think ‘bout now Kit?”

“What you mean?”

“Remember back when we were working the mines, you had all those plans.”

He let out a little snort. “Not really Pick’. Just wanted to do my job and get on with our lives was all really.”

“Exactly, and that ain’ exactly happening here you know.”

“That’s cause a war started. Things change.”

“That much hu?”

He stopped now, his companion stopping within the next step to match him. “What are you getting at Pick’?”

Picker looked away with that question, either having none, or unwilling to give any answer. Liftkit gave him a moment to change his mind, but failing that, he frowned, a hand finding a spot on his hip to accentuate his annoyed feeling with that.

“Picker.”

“I just want to stop being on hold.”

“What?”

“I wanna get back to life,” he continued. “This war ain’ got an end in sight, and who even knows if it’ll help any.”

That wasn’t a good way to talk. Lately, in their ranks, there’d been some talk like this; some talk of desertion, or even defecting. When the war had broken out, the capitol had said it wouldn’t last long; it was such a small rebellious group. But it had dragged out from a projected deca- or a stellar-cycle at most, to stacks of meta-cycles. Forces were pulled in from the outer sectors, like they had been; only to leave those areas open to fall prey to the enemy. Their home in Sector Nine had been obliterated fairly recently too as it was, and many in their company had come from there with them, or places similar. So with home gone, the questions of “What are we really fighting for?” were springing up more and more, and that was dangerous.

“Picker…” 

He looked back up to him, locking optics at last. “I just want to get back to you Kit.”

The green mech sighed, resting his hand on his companion’s arm lightly, comfortingly. “I get it Picker, I really do. But you know what they keep saying. This won’t last forever.”

“And then what Kit? We can’t go home.”

He shrugged. “We’ll just find a new home. I’m sure the cities’ll need rebuilding, so we’ll work at that until something comes up.”

“You really think it’ll be that easy?”

He shrugged again, “Nothing’s ever easy,” then he offered him a reassuring smile, “But so long as we’re a team, I think we’ll manage.”

He snorted slightly. “Always the optimist ain’chya Kit.”

“S’what I try to do.”

The green mech’s grin was infectious, and it wasn’t long until the orange one was grinning too. He shook his head then, and tried to push it away, his arm once again finding its way around the smaller’s shoulders as they walked forward again. 

That’s just the way he was; Liftkit always had a way about him that made things come out for him in the end. It was one of the things that had attracted Picker to him in the beginning, even back when they were just miners; Kit always had a way about him. Throw him in a war zone, and he was the same old Liftkit; it was a running joke that they should just send him into the Decepticon central base and have him sweet talk them into surrendering at this rate. 

Not that Picker would let him out of his sight long enough to try that though. Coupling up might have been discouraged amongst the ranks, but everyone knew they were together. As long as no one brought it up, and it didn’t get in the way of doing their assignments, no one cared. Just like back in the mines. Work first, personal life second…if at all. And it was that last catch that nagged in the back of the bigger bot’s processor, and no matter how much the smaller sweet talked, that nagging wasn’t going to go away.  
***  
Another day, another raid. 

Theirs was an infantry regiment after all; it was the easiest job to give the back water laborers without needing to give them any additional training. They were all hunters, or trappers, framers, and miners; they were used to working with their hands and crossing rough terrain, relying only on themselves or their party’s merits to come back alive. And they were quite proud to say, they were damn well good at their job. Despite the recent questioning amongst the ranks, all the higher ups had to admit that they were the best of their canon fodder.

And that’s why they were in the area; intelligence had passed their way that there were several Decepticon bases hidden in the dessert on this moon. So their job was to locate the enemy, engage the enemy, and failing to take any useful prisoners, destroy the enemy. So far, they’d found out three abandoned locations; the last of which a certain set of mechs had blown to smithereens but days beforehand.

Today’s target though was not abandoned; it was a fully functioning Decepticon outpost, at least double the size of the abandoned locations. A team had found it a deca-cycle or so ago, and they had been keeping watch. It seemed though, what with the recent destruction of their smaller outposts, the ‘Cons were making to move house. So now was the time to strike.

There were about a dozen or so of them, laid out on a bluff that overlooked the station, and they were all itching to get down to business.

“How’s it looking Long Shot?” Liftkit slid up next to the dust colored mech that was laying belly down against the bluff edge.

“They’re moving house alright,” he said plainly, watching the scene below through the scope on his range rifle. Long Shot was one of the designated snipers, having been a competition sharp shooter back in his home settlement; he was younger than most of the bots here, but wasn’t the youngest by far. He was however one of the most focused, which made him the go to scout and sharp shooter. “The sooner we get to dancing, the better sir.”

The green mech nodded and slid his way back down from the bluff edge to rejoin most of his team mates.

“How’s it lookin’ up there?” a black and white stood as he approached the group.

“Lookin’ like we’ve got a party to start,” he couldn’t help the cocky smirk at that, but it started to slip away as he scanned the ranks. “Hey, where’s Picker at?”

A few looked around, mumbling something along the lines of “I don’t know” or “He was just here”; of course someone also cracked a “Cog and chain” joke, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. 

Just as Liftkit was about to open his mouth to say something, there came the resounding familiar sound of a click. He spun around fast, his optics flashing wide, trying to wind the source. He wasn’t the only one who’d heard it, though they all reacted a millisecond slower. A small silver orb came rolling down the bluff, settling itself just underfoot.

“BOMB!”

But the warning came too late; the incendiary went off, causing an explosion in the center of the gathered bots. It wasn’t too large luckily, the most damage it did was blast back the closest bots, who also received flash burns. Many were stumbling back to their peds in seconds, while some remained down, knocked out from the blast. But that was the least of their problems.

Looking up to the bluff, from where the bomb had come from, there was a line of dark forms appearing; somehow the Cons had known they were there.  
***  
The first thing he recognized was an ache in his frame. His processor was fuzzy as consciousness tried to force its way back to the forethought. He groaned slightly from the ache, but the sound of his own voice was what really brought him back to the here and now.

There had been an explosion, and he had been thrown back. It must have knocked him out, because after that there was nothing but darkness. He tried opening his optics, but found only muffled darkness; he tried to reach up, but then found his wrists bound. This was not good.

“Got another live one!” he didn’t recognize that voice.

“Good, bring him with the others then!” he didn’t recognize that voice either.

The next thing he knew, he was being hoisted onto his peds. He wasn’t sure if he could trust his own balance at first, but the bot who’d yanked him up didn’t give him a chance to test it; he was roughly shoved forward, so to avoid loosing what balance he had, he marched. He could tell he was pushed up hill at first, then pushed down the other side; he had to assume that was the bluff his team had been set up behind. Once past that though, his muffled darkness brightened quite a bit.

His processor worked fast, trying to determine what was going on. He listened as carefully as he could, but the thing about sand was that it muffled footsteps very well. The most obvious conclusion he came up with was that the Cons had known their location and had attacked; so by proxy, he was now a captive of the Decepticons, most likely being lead to the base he was going to attack. From there, only Primus knew what they were planning on doing. The scenario did not look good.

But no, it wasn’t going to go down that way, not if he had anything to say about it. Liftkit didn’t miss a single step now as he was guided, marched along. The blindfold over his optics was thin enough that with the sun being high in the sky, he could see enough of the shapes around him. There were at least a half dozen ‘Cons in this grouping; he knew one was behind him. His spark then leapt as he realized that he still didn’t know where the orange mech was; he hoped Picker was in this group somewhere, but at this point he couldn’t be sure how many others of their company had been captured as well. He assumed his main weapons had been taken, and his wrists were bound together quite tightly; luckily they were bound in front though. 

So he had to account for at least six aggressors all armed, and an unknown number of other captives all unarmed. Yeah, those were good odds. Breaking out of this was definitely going to need some precise timing. Or a little dumb luck.

Luckily Liftkit was known for both; being dumb and lucky.

He took a few more marched paces before he made it seem like he was tripping. As the ‘Con behind him moved to stop his descent, he reacted back, kicking their feet out from under them. He twisted fast then, managing to take another with a well placed elbow shot, before his actions were noticed.

He got a thumb under the blindfold and ripped that off, but the binding on his wrists were still a no go. He could see clearly now though, and clearly could see he was outnumbered. Luckily they all seemed to be Vehicon drones; what luck, that they’d all be dumb.

He grinned. “Well, this won’t be so bad then.”

Melee broke out then. Drones tried to recapture him, but he was faster and unpredictable. Even with his wrists bound, the blades on his arms were arm enough to fend them off. Dodging, ducking, kicking, getting them to smash into each other, that was pretty much the plan basics at the moment.

Someone yelled something somewhere; he didn’t care what, all he cared was that it had distracted the drone on him long enough for him to ram his knee up into its chassis. As the body crumbled, Liftkit too the opportunity to use one of its exposed fins to slice through the binding on his wrists.

“Well that’s a bit better.”

He didn’t have long to reflect on that though, as another drone came at him. This time however, with his hands free, he was much better at defending himself.

It was also then that the commotion he’d started caught the other captive’s audios, and they too started to react. The drones should have expected that, but two dozen drones against a half dozen trained fighters, even weaponless, those were not good odds…for the drones. They had it in hand quite quickly, offlining drones left and right.

Liftkit took a nano-second to breathe, looking around, trying to gauge who he still had with him.

“Where’s everyone else?” the black and white mech asked, being the closest at hand, and also scanning their remaining members.

“I don’t know Wildstar,” Liftkit said tersely, scanning again, but still he wasn’t finding the one he was searching for, and it made his spark scream. “Hopefully those not knocked out by the blast are regrouping at the secondary rendezvous point, or went straight back to base camp.”

The other nodded. “Should we head to the rendezvous point then?”

It was odd how Liftkit seemed leader elect when things like this came up; he never asked for it, but he never turned it down. Someone had to think clearly in the face of crisis after all. Right now though, he didn’t want to lead; he wanted to go search for his partner. But he didn’t have that luxury, so he attempted to swallow his anxiety and nodded.

“The mission’s lost. They obviously knew we were here, and we don’t have enough equipment to finish the job now…”

From behind the group of disarmed Autobots an explosion erupted. All optics turned fast and widened in shock and surprise as their former target went up in smoke and flames. A few of them cheered, thinking that their comrades that had escaped had gone through with the mission in their stead. The fires rose high, reaching desperately to break the sky; anyone on the outside edges of the blast were fleeing from the station, but the high degree of wreckage made it clear none of them would get very far. As it was, hat explosion itself was sure to draw the attention of the rest of the unit; backup would be there in cycles, if not sooner.

But that wasn’t soon enough for the green mech. This event, it had the ear marks of his partner’s handiwork, and if he had been anywhere near the blast radius…

“Liftkit wait!”

He ignored the calls after him; the world was silent to him in that moment. He ran towards the burning wreckage, his spark trying to beat out of his chest. He had to be there, he had to find him, he had to make sure he was safe, he had to be ok…

Picker…

_He wasn’t though. The C.O.s swooped in right on cue, and we were in cleanup duty for a good couple of days. Any bodies we found were charred beyond recognition for the most part. But they found one piece of paneling that had a readable I.D. code and that was it; Picker was announced officially offline. Your spark shatters when the one person you’d die for, the thing that was keeping you going and making you whole, is suddenly ripped away. It felt like the beginning of the end of the world for me, even though I knew the world, the war, would just keep going on around me. But without him, I wasn’t sure if I could still see the light at the end of the tunnel so to speak. I’d lost my home, and my partner to this war, and it didn’t seem like it was going to be giving me back anything good any time soon neither._


	3. Part 2

_The day they said that Picker was officially dead, a part of me felt like it’d died too. But the thing that fried my circuits the most was the way everyone started tiptoeing around me. That I couldn’t stand. I know the guys were just trying to be considerate; like said, everyone knew we were a thing, even if it wasn’t on record, and so I get it. But we still had a war to fight; no bot gets a holiday from war to mourn the dead. So when rotation came around, I stuck with a few of the guys and moved to a new unit; somewhere where they wouldn’t be watching my every step. And that worked well for several meta-cycles. I was a good solider, I did my job well, because at the end of the day, it was just a typical day at work._

The sun was settling behind the fallen buildings; night would soon be upon the land. The 32nd infantry were bunked down in the ruins of once was a downtown district. They were headed for a ship port that would have a carrier waiting to ship them off world; new fighting had broken put in the 12th sector, so the High Command had to pull troops from this colony planet to cover it. Many felt it would leave the planet wide open for the Decepticons to take over and regroup their numbers; HC’s thought on eth matter was that “at least we’ll know where to attack them then” if that became the case. The bots they were shipping about though, they had plenty to say about it, ranging for being gung-ho to kill Cons, to being aggravated about missing out on rotating out for downtime once again.

Liftkit was somewhere in between the spectrum. He’d joined the 32nd on his first rotation out and never left. He was still quite the demolitions expert, and wasn’t exactly a stranger around camp when lights out came up; everyone put up with his flirting, whether intentional or not, and some even returned it. But he never really got close to anyone, not in that way. He had any of their backs, as they had his, but he never… _talked_ about things. Except, maybe with Long Shot.

The sniper had rotated with the green mech, and had never left too. His skills were a much needed asset, but like Kit’s knowledge of explosives, so they were usually paired off as a team. So it was a good thing that Kit would talk to the younger mech. But he still held back, and Long Shot was really the only one who knew why.

Tonight, on the eve of their departure, the sandstone mech was tending to his weapon of choice; he kept the sniper rifle in perfect order, lest the calibration be off my just a fraction of a nano-meter and he miss his target or worse. He was sitting by one of the handful of fires the group had set up, his and Liftkit’s gear near at hand. Other fires had others sleeping around them, or in most cases, a boisterous group boasting about some previous exploit, sharing glory stories. He chanced a glance up from his cleaning, his amber optics catching sight of his partner off at one of the other campfires, seemingly in some mech’s lap, nursing a cube of high grade found in one of the surrounding abandoned buildings. Long Shot just shook his helm and went back to his rifle.

A cycle, cycle and a half passed before the green mech had had all he could take of his fellow soldier’s company. He wound his way back to the fire his partner had set up, just slightly off kilter from the high grade; it had been quite some time since he’d had some after all. Upon reaching their little circle of gear, he thought the sandy mech was already in recharge, so he did his best to not make a sound as he settled down on his side of things.

“You going to make it to the morning?”

Seems the younger mech wasn’t asleep yet after all. Liftkit just smirked with one of his infamous grins and waved it off.

“Pft, sure. Mining bot who can’t hold his high grade, ha! Ain’t no good a miner then kid.”

“I wouldn’t be concerned if you didn’t drink so much.”

“Well that’s where yer wrong, cause I don’t drink much, so ha.”

“Once a stellar cycle you do.”

His self assurance and cocky attitude faded there; his grin slid away as his optics cast a sideways glance away from his younger friend. Long Shot wasn’t about to let this go though, he knew exactly what he was talking about as he sat up slightly, watching the green mech carefully.

“You usually don’t come back to our camp either on that night.”

“Yeah, well, don’t wanna loose you in the move tomorrow kid.”

“Liftkit.”

“Let it go kid,” he sighed slightly, turning away, to curl up on his berthroll to recharge with his back to the fire and his friend.

Long Shot sighed slightly as well and laid back down, but he starred straight up at the dark sky overhead, painted with what few stars this system had to offer.

“I don’t want to tell you how to grieve, but this behavior does concern me. Sometimes it seems like you pick and choose which emotions you flip on and off.”

“How’s that a bad thing,” he mumbled, resting an arm under his helm. “Gives one a clear head on the field you know.”

“I know,” he gave, “But when the feelings you have switched off bottle up and are turned on so infrequently, disaster will ensue eventually.”

“And you’re speaking from experience, hu?” the disbelief in his voice wasn’t masked in the least bit.

“Just from observation.”

Liftkit closed his optics, letting out a silent sigh. The high grade in his system was already numbing his circuits sure, but it never helped with the ache in his spark; nothing ever helped that, only distracted from it. Fighting, fragging, drinking, short of dying, he didn’t think anything would ever dull that pain. He’d thought he was doing alright though; most of the time he was. But every stellar cycle, on the anniversary of it, he just…broke; the date felt like it was embedded in his processor. So he lost it for one night, doing anything he could to numb his pain, and then come the morning he would cover up the shame with work of some sort, ignoring it for another cycle until it all began again. 

Was it self destructive, maybe in the long run, but when you lived on a battle field, you only had tomorrow to count as a future if you were lucky. But if the kid was concerned about him, then maybe…

“I hear ya kid,” he finally breathed.

Long Shot turned his helm to the side to look at the older mech’s back, waiting to see of he would move, or if more words would come.

“I…we’ll talk about it more in the morning, or you know, in a deca-cycle depending how much trouble we get into after the move. Deal?”

Long Shot turned his helm back, again looking up at the stars; it wasn’t exactly the answer he would have liked, but then again it was more than he had expected.

“You know I’m always willing to listen Liftkit.”

“I know Long Shot,” he curled up a little into himself, his free hand held protectively across his spark chamber as he closed his optics for the night. “I know.”  
***  
Moving day, as they were fondly calling it. It was about half a day’s trek to the ship port, and though most of the planet had been cleared of Con activities, they were still ever vigilant. The ranks were broken up into teams of scouts and those who carried and protected their provisions. The faster they made it to the port, the faster they were off this rock, and the less chances any lingering Cons would have to get them.

Long Shot and Liftkit were far ahead of most of their regiment, having scouting duties. The green mech stretched a bit as he walked, while the sandstone one walked steadily a few feet away with his rifle locked onto his back.

“So how much longer you think we got to go kid?”

“The Commander said it would take 10 cycles if we made good time,” the younger mech said evenly, scanning the barren horizon as he didn’t miss a step.

The group had left the outskirts of the fallen city about two cycles ago, which in theory left another eight-if they were lucky-before they reached their destination. And that was along time to be walking Liftkit concluded; he never was much a fan for long draw out boring events like this. That was why he was a fighter and a demolitions expert after all. Long Shot on the other hand had no problems with it, and was actually paying more attention to fulfilling their assigned duties.

Minutes ticked by as endlessly dessert washed out the sky above them. The green mech was going on about something, trying to fill the void with something more interesting than sand. Suddenly though he realized that his partner wasn’t walking with him anymore. He stopped and looked back, spotting the sandstone mech several yards back.

“Hey kid, you alright?!” he called back.

Long shot just held up a hand slowly, signaling for quiet. That got Liftkit onto the defensive mode; his easy going bored posture was fast forgotten as his hands came down from being locked behind his helm, and his optics scanned the surrounding area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Not seeing anything, he looked back to where the other had been, but now he saw nothing. Again, he rose to the defensive, careful as he back tracked his steps to the last place he had seen the younger mech. 

As he neared though a small bit of worry was relieved as he saw the sniper flat against a dune; he only saw him because he was so used to seeing the sandstone mech blended into the surroundings that way. He crawled over to him now, sliding up beside him, despite his lack of camouflage. He was about to open his mouth to ask what he’d seen, but against, Long Shot signaled for silence, and looked away from his sniper scope to point out what he’d seen.

It took a moment, but Kit unmistakably spotted the familiar form of a Con ship. It wasn’t large, maybe three dozen troops on it best, if they were packed in like copper fish. It was enough to delay them, or distract them if they didn’t see it coming. Too bad they had though.

They exchanged a look, having spent enough time together to know the drill. Kit nodded and slid his way back down the dune, while Long Shot readjusted himself, his focus back through his sniper scope, locked on the ship, waiting for the right moment. The green mech jogged back towards the main group of their little caravan; he need to find the C.O., he had to warn them, they needed to be ready for this attack.

But he wasn’t fast enough. A set of missiles came flying overhead from behind him just as his group came into sight; they struck dead on at the heart of the caravan. That was it; he didn’t need to warn them anymore; now was the time to go to arms.

The green mech spun around fast as drones came running his way. His blaster was already as they started spilling over. One shot, two, three. They were upon him now, so he switched back to his fists and blades and fought them head on. Most went around him, but others were fast to recover from eth surprise attack to meet them as well. Fighting ensued at every angle, but as expected, the Autobots had the upper hand with their numbers, despite being surprised.

And then there came the sound of an engine roar. Many turned from their fighting to look, the green mech included. Soaring over the sand dune was a large square-like object. It took a second for most to realize that it wasn’t an object, it was a Con; a fraction of a second after that realization it transformed in mid air, landing hard and square in a group if infantry bots. The mech was a large farmed one1 and his burnt orange plating reflected the sun over head well. He had a face guard up, and spikes now adorned his arm casings, but there was no mistaking it.

Liftkit stopped dead in his tracks, his spark nearly going out as his optics widened at the sight.

It couldn’t be. It…it just couldn’t…

“Liftkit!”

His name jerked him back to the present, turning away as the ghost started to pummel his fellow soldiers. As he trend though he came face to face with a Vehicon drone armed with a static staff. He didn’t have enough time to defend against that, but just as the drone would have been within range to hit him, he collapsed. The green mech looked up fast, and saw Long Shot standing yards off; the sniper was earning his keep alright.

Kit gave a quick nod for that and he turned fast, almost immediately engaged in combat once again. He was maneuvering himself closer with each combatant though; he had to get closer to him; he had to know for certain.

A circle was forming around the large orange brute as he kept beating down and throwing out his opponents; his own troops knew he wouldn’t distinguish foe from ally, so they were trying to stay out of harm’s way as well. It didn’t faze him one way or another; he just liked wrecking things. Knock ‘em out, pick ‘em up; that was his style. That’s how he’d earned the nickname Pick’em Up amongst the ranks, and he was always into showing off why.

He was so caught up in his fighting game that he almost didn’t notice the green mech, starring at him with wide gold optics. The only reason he saw him though was because that was the next bot in his knock down line up. But it was too late; he struck, and Liftkit went flying back, unable to dodge from his own shock. He fumbled there for a moment; that couldn’t have been…could it really?

“Picker!”

He turned hearing his old name shouted; the moment he did though a series of rounds came ricocheting off his armor, a few managing to sneak their way into cracks though to damage his protoform. His optics zeroed in on the sandstone sniper that was standing several yards away, his rifle still raised with him dead in his sights. The Decepticon growled low and charged at this new attacker. 

Long Shot stood his ground firmly; with every fifty feet he sent off another round, hitting its mark perfectly each time, but the behemoth just kept coming. Fifty feet, 100, 150, he was closing it, but each hit did little to deter the raging Con.

Meanwhile Liftkit had regained his barrings enough from the strike and was up again. He looked frantically for the orange mech, but when his optics lit upon the scene unfolding before him, everything just stopped.

Pick’em Up had reached Long Shot, and in a flash had grabbed the sniper by the helm and wrenched him up into the air; you could almost hear the sound of his spinal strut snapping in half. The young mech never even stood a chance to react. The Con just unceremoniously dropped his ex-teammate, still growling as he rotated the one shoulder that a round had worked its way into.

“Long Shot!” Liftkit cried out; he wanted to run to his fallen partner, but others were holding him back.

Hearing that familiar voice, the orange mech turned back, seeing the green struggle in anguish against his comrades. But it wasn’t for him, it was for that one. He growled again, looking down at the lifeless body at his peds. He kicked it, deeper into the sands, before he turned away, activating his comm. link.

“Pick’em Up to SteelFire. Over.”

There was a crackle of static, but soon another voice answered, _“SteelFire present. Over.”_

“Y’all done yet, or do we need to stall them longer? Over.”

_“Oh, is the big old brute tired of maiming useless Autobots already? Over.”_

He growled. “Just answer the fragging question!”

_“You forgot to say over. Over.”_

“I’m gonna wring your scrawny seeker neck if you don’t stop playing games with me you useless scrap heap…over.”

_“Now see was that so hard? I swear, you groundlings are so impatient and so impractical when it comes to the important things.”_

He was toying with him, he knew that. He half glanced back at the mob of Cons and Bots down below; they’re resumed their tussles as he’d been distracted. He couldn’t spot the familiar green mech though; but did he really want to look now?

_“But to answer the question, yes, we’ve gotten what we needed. Head back to base, and do try not to leave a trail this time. Over.”_

“Fragg you,” he spat, and then added, “Over and out,” before he disconnected the comm. link.

He then turned back towards the fighting, but instead of descending back down into it, he raised one of his blasters and shot up a flare. All of the Vehicon drones turned to look at that, and then instantly started to retreat. Their opponents were confused at first, but tried to quickly get on their heels; if they wanted to run, they’d give them a chase. But as the infantry made it over the dune, they only found themselves falling into a pre-dug ditch. A few escaped the trick, either being too slow, or realizing what was happening when their comrades went toppling over the edge.

Liftkit had no interest in following the Vehicons and their leader; he instead found his path winding to the lifeless body left upon the sands. He reached Long Shot’s side, and just fell to his knees. Slowly he drew the lifeless frame into his lap, turning him over, looking at the blank face. It was almost like he could have been asleep, but he knew he wasn’t. The younger mech was gone, off to the All Spark, like so many before him and surely more to come.

But there was one soul he wouldn’t be finding there. Despite the fluid that wanted to break the barriers at the corner of his optics, Liftkit looked skyward, vaguely in the direction the Deception ship had headed.

He thought he’d been dead, all this time. His friend, his love, his life. And now, he came back as a monster.

_It didn’t take me long to learn about what had been going on. About three stellar-cycles ago, this new Con had started showing up who liked to bust things up; they called him “Pick’em Up”. Turns out that was the guy that we’d run into that day. There was no denying that that was Picker, I just knew it deep in my core. No one had put two and two together, seeing as he’d shown up well after Picker had been declared dead, and he seemed to be making sure he wasn’t showing up in places our old ranks would show up. So seeing as no one on this side of the galaxy really knew about him, aside from Long Shot and myself, no one thought to bring it up. I figured he’d been captured by the Cons, or reprogrammed, or something. Because there was no way Picker would have killed Long Shot, would’ve attacked us, would’ve done any of that! I tried telling that to my C.O.s, but they weren’t the types to listen to the low man on the data stick like me. So I did the only thing I could; I rotated out, joined up with a new group, and started tracking him down. I’d lost Picker once, I wasn’t about to loose him again._


	4. Part 3

_I lost track of Picker-excuse me, “Pick’em Up” for a while after the first encounter. I don’t know, maybe I spooked him; maybe the Cons didn’t want me pulling him out of their clutches. I don’t know…I don’t even really care anymore. All that mattered was hunting him down and getting some answers. It took nearly a stellar-cycle before I was able to get the slightest whiff of a location he could be at. My C.O.s weren’t into personal vendettas, and seeing as I wasn’t exactly into getting a court marshal, all I could do was keep my audios open, and hope we’d cross paths again. If only I’d known he was thinking the same thing; I really should have expected that though._

Things were quiet. Too quiet actually. This had been a heavy centralized Deception sector just days before; by the time this squadron of Autobots had arrived, the place had become a virtual ghost town. There was no rhyme or reason for it either. They had just up and left.

“I’m not liking this,” a brown mech stated the obvious as the trio were walking their last perimeter sweep. “You don’t think the place is haunted or something, hu?”

“Shut yer trap Mudskip,” a gun metal gray mech snapped. “Don’t be an idjit.”

“Cut the kid some slack,” the green mech chided. 

The second snorted. “Sayin’ you believe in spark specters now then Liftkit.”

“I’ve seen bots seemingly come back from the dead,” that statement made the brown bot shiver, and the gray scoff, but he just shook his head, “But “hauntings”, no. Still, Cons don’t usually just pull up and leave shop without something…”

“Righ’ cause you know how Cons work so well, don’thcya rookie.”

Liftkit stiffened at that a bit, but he didn’t fight back. He hadn’t been long with this company, and many resented him for it. These bots had been in bigger battles, lost many good mechs; who was he to come in from the outer rims, what did he know of the heartache of battle. He hadn’t bothered to correct any of them either; let them feel secure in their delusions, he never stuck around for more than half a meta-cycle. After Long Shot’s death, he hadn’t dared to form any other lasting bonds with anyone; when first rotations came, he was out of there, each and every time. He was still new to this group though, so he was getting a lot of this.

“Maybe we should just start heading back…” the brown bot tried again.

“We still got 20 more klicks to check before we-”

The wind wasn’t even cut as the explosive round just seemed to materialize as it pierced the gray mech’s chassis before exploding. The two standing bots spun fast, just as fire rained from above.

“Move it!” Liftkit yelled, heading for the nearest cover.

Mudskip was fast on his heels, and they both slid behind a half crumbled wall. The weapon fire still fell upon them, no doubt riddling their fallen companion’s lifeless body with further holes.

“What do we do! What do we do! What do we do!!” the brown mech was hyper ventilating.

“Get it together Mudskip,” he snapped slightly, converting to his blaster. “You run for command, I’ll cover you.”

“Wh-wha-but-!”

“NOW!”

The green mech rolled out from his cover and started returning fire at the as yet unseen assailants. The brown mech didn’t even have half a second to waste; he transformed and sped out of there as fast as he could. Liftkit provided cover fire the best he could, distracting the attackers from the other; as long as he made it back to warn the company, then that was all that mattered.

He ducked down behind another pile of debris, artillery still raining down on him. He looked back, seeing nothing but the last bits of dust settling; the kid had made it out of there. Good. Now he didn’t have to be as concerned. The raining fire stopped, and he paused, holding a breath as he listened. The sounds of metal scrapping against the sand came a few moments later; a smirk spread across his face at that.

Idiots.

In a flash the green mech had leapt over his shielding barrier, one blaster still active and spraying shots as he flew through the air. As he landed, someone was upon him, but that’s when his free fist connected with metal plating. As infantry they were taught how to fight alone, and he sure did do just that. And he was good at it.

Surprisingly enough though, there weren’t that many of them. After punching out the one, he found that there seemed to only be a set of three, the other two having fallen from his cover fire. He stood there for a moment, looking around at the scene, a bit confused. Was this a scouting party, and if so why bother attacking them instead of reporting back to their superiors; why risk being out gunned? It just didn’t make any sense…

He heard the slice in the air, but it wasn’t until he felt the sting of the dart against the back of his neck that he realized what had happened. He swatted back and pulled out the small dart, but it was too late; he could already feel the nanite poison filtering into his systems. He tried to look for the source of the attack; as he turned though he felt his legs give out and he fell to his knees. His vision started to cloud, the corners darkening as his optics threatened to offline without him. A darkened form rose up from where the fire fight had started, where the dart had come from. Liftkit was now leaning forward, desperately trying to support his own weight as his systems started shutting down. The form started to move closer; he tried to raise his blaster, to aim, to get in one last strike. But moving that support caused him to completely collapse face first into the sand. He vented one last heavy breath before his majors systems put him into stasis lock.

“And that is how one makes an Autobot kneel…”  
***  
Everything suddenly came back online all at once, and the light nearly blinded him. He tried to move his helm, to look away from the blinding light, but found that he was braced. His next movement was an attempt to move both his arms and legs, but found that those two were pinned down.

“Ah good, you’re finally coming around,” a smooth voice said without any sort of concern etched in the tone.

It took his equilibrium to balance out, and for his optics to readjust; coming out of stasis lock was never very fun, but always quite sobering. As his sensors cleared and he was brought back to the here and now, Liftkit started surveying the situation.

He was in what looked almost like a med bay of sorts, though a very old and unkempt one. Old energon stains painted the walls in a few places, and rusted fragments of either body parts or tools were littered in places. It looked like some sort of torture chamber actually. And considering what else he saw in the room with him, he figured that’s exactly what it was.

A gun metal and blue steeled seeker stepped into his vision, a set of almost feather-like wings folded against his back; a dark little smirk in place that was reflected in the dark glint of his magenta optics. A clawed hand reached forward, a single nail running down along the side of his face, tracing down his chassis as he observed him.

“8 out of 10 mechs don’t revive after a shot like that. Almost thought you were a waste of time,” he drew back, clicking his claws with some twisted form of amusement. “But lucky for me, you were part of the lucky two.”

“Oh yeah, lucky me,” Liftkit mumbled.

“Oh good, your vocal processors are already online too. This will so make things all that much easier, or…” he finally looked away from the bound mech, down to a side tray covered with several sharp and nasty looking instruments, “Perhaps all that more entertaining for me.”

Suddenly t eh door to the room was thrown open, and a large orange mech came storming in; his amber optics were locked on the seeker.

“What do you think you’re doing SteelFire!” he barked as the face mask slid off. “I told you to tell me-”

“Oh shut up,” the seeker hissed, returning the glare just as sharply. “The captive just came online, I haven’t even had a second to sterilize anything.”

Liftkit rolled his optics, finding it highly unlikely that anything in here would be “sterilized” in any way shape or form.

The orange mech didn’t miss a beat though. “Get out.”

“Excuse you, But I am in charge of interrogations,” SteelFire hissed. “Last I checked, you were simply the idiot who broke everything.”

“I said get out, that’s an order!”

“You don’t have the authority to order me!”

“You wanna bet! Straxus left me in charge remember.”

The seeker hissed sharply, pushing past the larger mech, heading for the door. “We’ll just be seeing about that!”

Moments ticked past as the sounds of the seeker heading down the hallway to who knew where faded. The entire time, Liftkit had stayed silent, just looking at this ghost of his past. There really was no denying that that was Picker, even with the armor modifications he’d picked up, as well as the not-so-fresh Decepticon emblem on an arm guard. He hadn’t looked to the green mech yet; when he’d entered his gaze had been focused on the squabbling seeker, but now that that distraction was gone…

“Kit, I,” he started to look up only to get spat in the face; Pick’em Up growled, reflexively having his hand go to the offender’s throat. “What the fragging pit!”

“You traitor,” Kit hissed, optics narrowed. “How could you.”

“How could I? How could I what,” he hissed, drawing back his hand, not that it did much seeing as the other mech was still strapped vertically to a med berth. “How could I choose something better than what I was handed, or how could I actually choose to do something worth while.”

“There is nothing worthwhile about being a Con.”

“There is everything! There’s prestige, there’s opportunities, there’s choice. There are no classes, no one doubts my skills because I was “nothing but a back-system miner”. I have value, I have skills, and I have a choice to be better than what anyone ever dreamed to be.”

“You’re talking madness.”

“Really, is it madness, or are just unwilling to accept the truth,” he hissed. “This war won’t end until the classes are abolished, don’t you see that. You used to talk about our life after the war, but really what life would that have been Kit? We were laborers, and after all the labor was finished, we would have just been discarded and forgotten under the old regime. But this new one, in this one, we would stand a chance. We would have a choice.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said definitely, “This is nothing but Decepticon propaganda. This isn’t the Picker I knew.”

The orange mech looked away at that. “Then obviously you didn’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

“So that’s it then. You betrayed us for some false lofty ideals and profit. Typical Con.”

“No!” he snapped, grabbing him again and this time applying pressure. “You betrayed us! You ran away! I had everything planned perfectly but you just had to go and ruin it all! We were going to be set Kit!”

Liftkit tried to breathe, but the pressure on his neck was making that difficult.

“Everything I have ever done was for you, all of it! And this is the thanks you give me.”

“N-no,” he managed to get out.

Pick’em Up growled and released his hold. Liftkit automatically took in a deep breath, coughing slightly as the air ran against some bruised parts in his neck.

“What was that?”

He still coughed slightly, but his gaze was sharp. “No. You didn’t do any of this for you, you did it all for yourself. The Picker I knew would never say or do any of this, he would never go this far down this road. I watched him die that day, so I have no idea who you are.”

He growled, clenching his fists. “You’d better take that back Kit. Right now, I’m the only thing keeping you alive in here, so you’d better play nice with me.”

The green mech spat again at the orange; he missed, but the statement was still made clear.

“Fine!” he hissed, “Have it your way then.”

Pick’em Up left the med bay then; once outside he let out a roar mixed with anguish and anger as he nearly punched through the opposite wall. He really didn’t care who heard him. Well, nearly…

“Careful,” that smooth dark voice came from his right, “I’m going to be quite busy for the next several (hours) so I won’t be able to repair that hand of yours yet again.”

He growled low, pulling his fist out of the dented wall, flexing his fingers to check for damage. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Oh just enough to know what to do while I “interrogate” him,” SteelFire smirked as he stepped forward, moving past the larger mech. “My methods won’t be a problem for you, will they?”

“No,” he said simply, flatly as he turned to go down the hall, his face mask sliding back into place. “Call me if you need any assistance.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the seeker’s optics glinted maliciously as he turned to reenter his med bay.

Everything was just the way he’d left it; good, the large brute hadn’t damaged anything for once. His optics lit upon the green mech, and that devilish smirk slid right back into place.

“Well, I’m sure that was fun for all parties, but now onto real business.”

His claws slid across several of the tools splayed out, feeling, thinking, deciding.

“I’m not talking.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Believe me, I don’t expect you to,” he picked up a long sharpened spike, caressing its length almost with of a touch delicacy. “Though I will warn you, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to let me let you talk.”  
***  
Time escaped him from that point on. He had heard about the Decepticons and their methods of torture, but he’d been fortunate enough to never being on the receiving end of that until this point. But this paled in comparison to the stories he’d heard.

He felt…no, he didn’t even feel anymore. Parts of him had been taken apart and put back together, all while he was alert and aware. Things were removed that he needed, things he didn’t were added in for whatever reason, and still that horrible seeker made him witness it all, covered in energon, ignoring all warnings his body was giving eh sadistic surgeon. He felt much more like a Frankensteined monster than a mech.

His mind had been invaded; the deepest crevices of his personal thoughts probed, brought out, and in cases, twisted into nightmarish things. He thought he’d offlined at least twice during that, but he was always brought back to consciousness, to being still alive. He couldn’t even see the lines between reality and fantasy at times; his processors were so melded and muddled. But still, he was kept functioning, he was kept aware of every little thing that was done to him.

If the seeker had wanted information, he could have had it a thousand times over with the things he had performed. And yet, the horrible acts just kept happening. There was no way he was in this for information, this was all just…fun. Sick, twisted, humorless, fun.

Once Liftkit thought he’d caught sight of the orange mech standing at the door to the med bay, watching, but then the day’s torture dejure began, and he just lost himself; he figured it was just another blurred fantasy. Or not. At this point, the green mech really didn’t care. He just wanted to rest, he wanted to sleep, and he wanted to die.

At the moment he was laying flat against on the med berth, horizontal for once. His optics were closed, as he tried to rest, but something the seeker had done was preventing him from actually recharging. Still, he couldn’t do much more than try. The sound of the door opening caught his audio receptor, but he made no attempt to address it; maybe if they thought he was in recharge they would let him be for a few more moments.

Silence was the only thing that greeted him though. And after several moments, the door made its sound again, assembly closing. He still stayed silent and still, puzzling a bit at that. Amazingly, he still had curiosity left in him, because that was what made him open his optics. The ceiling stared back at him, the only surface in the room that had no energon stains on it miraculously. He turned his helm to the left, toward the doorway, and still found nothing.

“Sure,” his vocal processor cracked, having been damaged due to all his screaming, “Let’s pull practical jokes on the prisoner. Not like he isn’t going crazy fast enough.”

He vented a sigh, and at first he missed it. It took a few seconds, but then his optics widened as he realized that, out of reflex, his hand had come up to hold his face as he’d sighed. His hand, his actually hand! Tentatively he reached up with the other to rub the now free wrist, finding that it too was free. He couldn’t believe it; part of him tried to deny this was real, while another pointed out that this could just be a new form of torture for him, you know, the kind to give false hope, or one to justify them killing him because he tried to escape.

But he ignored both parts, his spark suddenly beating with a renewed sensation, with a renewed hope. He sat up slowly, biting back a groan at his aching plating. He found his legs were also no longer toed to the table, so after a few steadying breaths, he swing his legs off the side of the berth, and eased down onto the floor, onto his peds. He gripped the berth’s edge, making sure he could still hold his own weight.

He knew he was short of time, and even though he would have liked to make sure he was alright, he just didn’t have that luxury. So he only have his equilibrium enough time to get somewhat rebalanced, before he grabbed the nearest sharp instrument and headed out the door.

The hallway seemed deserted enough, so he slowly made his way down, his free hand using the closest wall as an added support. He kept his optics and audios open for any signs of anyone else around. Step by step, metal scrapping softly against flooring, he progressed. 

Ultimately he realized he had no idea where he was, or even how long he had been here. He didn’t know if his squadron was looking for him, or if they were even still within range. He could be out here in a virtual no man’s land all on his own for all he knew. He could escape, but really, what was stopping his captors from just bringing him back in then?

An idea crossed his thoughts then, making him pause. If he was going down, it might as well be in a blaze of glory, dragging a few Cons down to the Pit with him.

He looked back the way he’d just come, and then forward again. It a 50/50 shot he’d want to go in either to make it to the central power station for the complex. He was already facing this way, so he just continued forward.

It was a long…not walk, but shuffle down the hall. He was sure someone would have heard him by now, or have gone to the med bay to make sure he hadn’t offlined and found him missing. With each step, each corner he took, he was certain some Con would jump out from somewhere and drag him back to that berth for Primus knows what horror. But he still pressed forward, he had to.

His persistence paid off, he found his goal. With a resurgence of power from whatever reserves he somehow had, he went to work fast. Crossing wires, ripping out components, hitting all the random buttons, making the gauges and read outs go towards the critical red settings. Alarms started to sound then; the central core was going to blow. Perfect.

He booked it out of there now, heading back down the hallway. Now several drones crossed his path, heading towards the core to try to prevent the melt down; instead they met the green mech’s fists. He had the element of surprise on his side, so he easily barreled through two of them, and continued running. The two left standing were confused, trying to decide whether they should go after the escaped prisoner, or go tend the core. The sounding alarms ended up winning out the decision, and they continued towards their original goal, giving the escaping bot the much needed time to escape.

But his escape was cut short. He skidded into another room, maybe a lobby of some sort at one time; it was in equal decay as to the med bay ad been. But that wasn’t what had stopped him; standing in his way was the larger orange mech.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he bellowed.

His breath hitched as panic rose in his throat, but he shoved it aside. Liftkit took a half step back, readying for a fight. Pick’em Up just narrowed his optics at that.

“You know you never could take me in a fight Kit.”

“Things change Pick.”

Pick’em Up growled at that.

And in a flash, he was upon him. The green mech hadn’t expected him to be that fast, but maybe he just seemed faster due to his debilitated state. Still, the orange mech landed the first punch, but the green dodged the next. He evaded out of his grasp, and swung around kicking him in the side. Pick’em Up buckled for a moment, holding the sore spot, giving Liftkit the opportunity to get in a few blows. When he had enough of that, the larger just back handed him, throwing the smaller several feet away into a pile of rubble.

Liftkit groaned, feeling debris piercing into his back strut. Pick’em Up just grunted, rotating his shoulder to make sure that his bruised side was functional enough. He stepped over towards the fallen mech, his optics narrowed tightly.

“Don’t seem like anything’s changed.”

He heard a click as the spikes pierced through the other’s arm guards. He rolled away at the last moment and he was nearly impaled by that. He hissed at the pain the sudden movement caused, but luckily his outstretched hand found a link of chain. As his attacked tried to impale him again, he rolled again, this time pulling the metal links with his, tripping up his foe. The orange fell, and the green tried to scramble to his feet, but a hand caught his ankle.

He looked back to the other just as the first explosion rocked the structure. They could already hear screaming, and more alarms blared; something had to be on fire somewhere.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way Kit.”

“Too late now!”

And he kicked him hard in the head with his free foot. Pick’em Up recoiled in pain at that, loosing his grip on the captured ankle. Liftkit took the opportunity to scramble the rest of the way up, and he tried to book it for the doorway, the exit, freedom. The orange mech called after him, but he didn’t listen, he was so close to his escape…

And then there was a loud crack as another explosion shook the foundation, blowing out one of the walls. Rubble rained down on the both of them, burying them under it. The heat started to rise as the fires reached their location. And then, nothing but darkness.

_And that’s the last I remembered before nearly shanking the bot that pulled me out of the rubble. I don’t know what happened to anyone who was stationed in the base; the field report only said that they found a handful dead and me. I woke up in the infirmary of a completely different company a few days later, and was filled in with what they knew happened after my ID codes checked out. Oddly enough, no one had even noticed I was missing it seemed. Talk about an ego downer. I told them what I could, which really wasn’t much. It’s all filed away somewhere I’m sure. But I was alive, despite the odds, I survived. No idea what I was going to do with my life though, seeing as everything I’d ever wanted had gone up in smoke…again._


	5. Epilogue

_After all that, I was in really bad shape, both inside and out. The docs did their best to patch me up physically, but mentally…well you know, it’s not that big of a deal. They seemed to think so for some reason, and wouldn’t let me get back to my unit, or even go off with another that rolled on through. It really drove me up a wall for the longest time. I did my best to be useful once they realized they couldn’t tie me down to a berth to rest, but it just wasn’t the same…_

“Oh c’mon doc,” the green mech tried to keep pace with the older gray bot. “Cap said I could go back out soon as you clear me. Sp just clear me, and I’m out of your servos.”

“That’s just the thing Liftkit, I can’t do that,” he huffed, both from being tired of this argument and at the data pad he was just handed.

“C’mon, you said all my parts and pieces are accounted for now.”

“You’ve failed your last psyche exam,” he scrolled through a few pages, checked a few things, then handed the data pad back to the bot that had handed it t him. “I can’t send you back out.”

“You any idea how many bots we’re loosing out there?”

That stopped the doctor in his tracks. He turned sharply upon the younger mech with a very hard look to his optics. Liftkit had realized his mistake a millisecond too late, and stood down.

“Sorry doc, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Uhhu,” he huffed, turning away again and continuing on his rounds through his makeshift hospital wing. “You hot shot infantry boys think you’re the saviors of the planet.”

“Doc, no,” Kit groaned, jogging to get back into step with him. “I was meaning that you can’t afford to me sit here-”

“No, I can’t afford to let you go out there and put yourself and everyone around you in danger,” he cut him off with that remark. “You aren’t combat ready.”

Kit groaned again. “Look doc, I can’t sit around here doing nothing. I will go insane if you do that to me.”

He grumbled, being handed another data pad, so he used that as an excuse not to answer the green mech for a few moments while he made his mind up about something he had been debating.

“You know we send out medics in teams of two for safety reasons, right?”

Liftkit nodded.

“We just lost a field medic the other day, and I just don’t have the resources to assign his partner another right now.”

He could see where this was going and practically leapt out of his plating.

“I’ll do it!”

“He’s about as stubborn as you are about getting back in the field to help.”

“I’ll do it!”

“I’m not clearing you for combat Liftkit,” he made sure to state that flat out so there could be no mistaking his wording. “You are only to assist the medic in whatever capacity he requires.”

“Got it.”

“You’re to watch his back, keep him safe while he’s doing his job, and get him back here in one functioning piece.”

“Got it.”

“Then maybe we’ll see about anything else.”

Liftkit just grinned one of his infamous smiles. “Don’t worry doc, I got this.”

“We’ll just see about that,” he looked to the bot he handed the last data pad he was given now, “Find Halftime, and tell him to be field ready in 20. I’ve found him a new partner.”


End file.
